


Your Hand

by honestgrins



Series: To Rely on the Kindness of Strangers [31]
Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Day Four - Time Shift, F/M, klarolineauweek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-14
Updated: 2016-10-11
Packaged: 2018-06-02 04:33:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6551143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honestgrins/pseuds/honestgrins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Anything Regency era!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The ballroom bustled with activity. Skirts swished in time with the music, boots landing in rhythm. Rebekah Mikaelson adored society life, though her mother was more and more adamant that she make a match this season. She had taken to sitting with her brothers rather than face a dance with yet another suitor.

"Who's that?"

Rebekah turned to find the group that had caught her favorite brother's attention, only to scoff at the brunette holding court in the center. "Elena Gilbert," she sneered. "She's a dreadful American transplant, a cousin to the Petrova twins." Neither Katerina nor Tatia were near their guest, one of them twirling in Elijah's arms - though Rebekah couldn't decipher which. "I can only hope this will be Miss Gilbert's only season."

"Certainly so, if that group of interested blokes is any guide," Kol quipped, enjoying his sister's sour expression.

Klaus scowled. "Not that one," he corrected. "The blonde sitting next to her, watching the dance floor." He had barely agreed to attend the ridiculous ball at his mother's behest, her desire to marry off her children too great to let them avoid society events. Had he known about the lovely blonde looking so wistfully at the dancers, though, he might have attended more. "Who is she?"

Peering over her glass of champagne, Rebekah narrowed her eyes. "I haven't met that one," she admitted. "Probably another American, how horrid."

As though drawn to her like a magnet, Klaus stood from his chair to make his way over. Only Rebekah's firm grip on his wrist kept him from his target. "What, sister," he asked through his teeth, staring down at her pernicious smirk.

"You haven't been introduced," she pointed out.

Shaking his head, Klaus chuckled. Independently wealthy of the Mikaelson name, he had little patience for the rules of propriety. His money was more than enough to excuse his lone wolf tendencies among the ton, contrarian as he may be. "It's just a dance, Bekah."

"If she is a guest of the Petrovas, then you risk offending the family," she hissed, gesturing to their brother still dancing with one of the daughters. "You've done enough to risk Elijah's chances at marriage."

Klaus's eyes darkened at the unsubtle dig at his past indiscretions. He had no idea Tatia was the woman Elijah had been so keen on courting, and he stopped his advances upon the realization.

Rebekah paid no mind to his clear agitation. "Leave the girl be," she insisted, glancing over to the blonde in question. "She's not even that pretty."

Kol laughed. "Oh, Bekah," he sighed mockingly. "If you're so intent on competing with every woman here, might I suggest a pageant? It might be the only chance you have at a crown."

Scowling, Rebekah mulishly kicked her brother under the protection of the tablecloth, but Klaus took her moment of distraction as his opportunity to escape her judgmental gaze. He slipped away from their table, looking carefully for any acquaintance already sitting with the lady in question. His heart both lifted and fell at one such familiar face. "Tyler Lockwood," he called out genially.

The dark-haired man turned to him in surprise. His family having moved to London in the last year, the young heir had sought out gentlemen to serve as a mentor in society. Klaus had spoken to the pup in various clubs over that time, but his only interest was in the tasks he could foist upon Lockwood rather than follow through on them himself.

Tyler had only just figured it out recently, which accounted for the polite restraint of pointed ire in the man's eyes at being addressed publicly. "Klaus Mikaelson," he greeted coldly, rising to shake his hand firmly. "I had come to expect your absence at balls."

"We all have mothers we must appease," Klaus joked, slipping into a pleasant countenance meant to draw people in. He often used it at the fights even gentlemen attended, encouraging higher bets from those foolish enough to trust his goodwill. He glanced down to the blonde carefully watching their conversation, only to deflate at the sight of her unamused frown. "I don't believe we've met, love," he asked, persevering.

Spine straightening, the girl kept her eyes lowered. She only rose at Tyler's urging, too polite to refuse the introduction when she was at a disadvantage.

"This is Caroline Forbes," Tyler said sternly. "She has only just arrived from Virginia, with the Gilbert family. They are guests of the Petrovas." In a softer voice, Tyler faced her more fully. "Miss Forbes, Lord Niklaus Mikaelson."

"Viscount Asbury, if we're being particular," Klaus corrected, wanting to impress this slip of a girl who barely deigned to look at him. "But Klaus will do."

"I'm not sure your informal address is necessary," Tyler bristled, fists clenching at his sides. "I'm sure Caroline would like to get back to her conversation."

It was quick, but Klaus was paying very close attention to the girl's eyes, which she rolled in instant reaction. She bowed her head, though, and dipped into a curtsy. "A pleasure to meet you, Lord Mikaelson," she said tightly, her voice almost husky despite its high pitch.

He found himself enthralled, a feeling Klaus wasn't familiar with. Unwilling to fight it, though, he held out his hand. "Might I tread on your conversation a bit longer and hope for a dance?"

The set of her mouth screamed annoyance, but Klaus smirked when she placed her hand in his. "I shall return soon," she promised Tyler, glancing toward Elena. The brunette had hardly paid attention, and quickly waved the girl off. Sighing in resignation, Caroline allowed Klaus to lead her to the dance floor.

They joined a new set, though Klaus barely recognized anyone in the group. He preferred to study the blonde studiously ignoring his gaze.

"Do you like to dance," he asked, enjoying their slight freedom from her companions.

"Well enough," she answered, perfectly moving to the beat.

Klaus smirked at her short, prim response. "I've only just learned of your connection to the Petrovas," he tried. "Do you know them well?"

"Well enough," she responded on a turn, her tone hard.

Nodding, Klaus took that to mean Tatia and Katerina were telling tales. "I was taught it was impolite to believe petty gossip before meeting the subject," he said lightly.

"But you weren't taught to wait for a proper introduction," she asked with a mock gasp. Steeling herself, she continued. "It's almost like you have untoward intentions."

He narrowed his eyes, waiting for her to draw close in the dance. Leaning down, he spoke lowly into her neck. "Would you like me to?"

This time, her gasp was genuine. "I swear," she muttered, "every man either sees a wife or a mistress when they meet a new maid."

"Welcome to the London season," Klaus joked, trying to lighten the moment.

"How depressing," she replied, stepping back into line. Stepping forward again in time with the music, she turned morbidly curious eyes to him. "Which are you looking for, a wife or a mistress?"

Klaus found himself struck by the question. Few ladies of the ton would outright ask that of a gentleman, even the scoundrel Klaus had proven himself to be. His mother held out hopes of finding a proper wife to settle him, but his brothers had no qualms assuming he used his extra wealth to house mistresses throughout the country.

They went through another turn, and Klaus noticed a blonde curl falling loose from her pinned up style. He imagined what Caroline might look like with her hair entirely free, scattered across her shoulder at the breakfast table. More lasciviously, he wondered how the hair would contrast with his dark linens as it spread across his pillow. Her eyes were unexpectedly bright as she awaited his answer.

"I'm not sure," he finally replied, surprised at the honesty clear in his voice. "I only find myself looking at you."

They smoothly ended in their places, the music and applause fading as she stared open-mouthed. Dipping into another curtsy, though, Caroline broke their eye contact.

Stepping forward before she could dart away, Klaus grasped her hand and brought it to his lips. The satin of her gloves was smooth against his lips, and he yearned to know if her skin would be just as smooth. "Thank you for the dance, Miss Forbes," he said softly, meant to entice.

Her brows furrowed, watching him place her hand in the crook of his elbow. He led them back to her table, where a suspicious Elena awaited her friend. Klaus nodded to Tyler before bowing slightly to Caroline. "I hope we meet again, sweetheart," he said clearly, ignoring the shocked faces around them as he pulled her hand up to his lips again.

Caroline pulled away, though her action only spurred the challenge in his expression. Before she could retort, however, he released her hand and turned to walk out of the ball altogether.

"Tatia has said such dreadful things about him," Elena whispered loudly enough for the group to hear. "What could the viscount want with you?"

Normally, Caroline would tense at such a comment from her fair-weather friend. She had lost many a friend and suitor to Elena Gilbert, but Caroline just stared at the door which served as Lord Mikaelson's exit. Glancing down to her hand, still hovering in the air from where he kissed it, only one response came to mind.

"I'm not sure," she whispered.


	2. A Taste of Danger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 2 - Right Place, Right Time (for klarolineauweek)
> 
> After many requests, I've finally gotten around to writing a sequel to last AU Week's Regency era fic, "Your Hand." Enjoy!

Unable to sleep after a particularly dull evening in residence, Caroline snuck down to the kitchen for some warm milk. As grateful as she was that Elena had included her in the excitement of her first season in London, she wished her friend would be more open to exploring their temporary home.

The Lockwoods had invited them to the opera, but Elena begged off with a feigned headache. Caroline very well knew she only wanted to stay home in case one of her many suitors dropped by, but the blonde was too polite to enjoy the opera without her friend. As she set about warming the milk, though, Caroline realized she wasn't polite enough to refrain from complaining about the situation.

Silently reprimanding herself, she was too focused to notice the scuffling behind her until a loud thud and a whispered, pained curse startled her. Caroline turned to find Katerina bundled in dark clothing, her eyes screwed up in pain. "Are you hurt?"

"Just stunned," Katerina answered, lifting her skirt to look at her foot. "My toe will smart the rest of the night."

Shocked, Caroline made sure to keep her voice down in the quiet of the townhouse. "Where could you possibly be going at this hour?"

With a disappointed look, Katerina still managed to smirk. "I should have known you were a goody-goody like my dreadful cousin," she sighed. The Petrovas had been kind enough to take Elena and Caroline in for the season, but the twins were hardly welcoming to more competition for good marriages. That is, until it was clear that Elijah Mikaelson was off limits. Caroline had been making progress with Katerina, the more scandalous sister, through conversation not often held among young ladies. No amount of literary discourse could restrain Katerina, though, as her secret adventure clearly showed. "Elijah has offered to escort me to the fights, and they only start now."

"Your mother would never-"

"Hence, the skulking around after everyone has retired," Katerina explained in a bored voice. A curious expression soon spread across her face. "I see two courses of action: one, you keep my secret. Just drink your milk, head upstairs, and pretend this was all a dream."

Caroline narrowed her eyes at the condescension. "Or I scream, and alert the entire house," she threatened, spine straight with defiance.

Something like respect glinted in Katerina's gaze, but she continued as though Caroline hadn't spoken. "Or two, you come with me. If you hurry to change, we will be just late enough for Elijah to worry. Anticipation is such a delicious look on him."

About to refuse, Caroline realized this might be her only chance to see the real London, especially if Elena kept indoors. "It seems like an awful risk," she wavered.

Katerina smiled innocently. "If you don't want to go-"

"I'll be right back," Caroline decided, a bit breathless as the weight of her decision grew with each step toward her room. Part of the agreement she made with her parents in joining the season was to act above reproach. If caught at the fights without a proper chaperone, her standing would be ruined, only to return home in shame.

With the goal being marriage, though, Caroline thought she deserved at least a taste of freedom while she still had it. Preserving her reputation was well and good, but just once, she wanted an experience that wasn't defined by her marriageability. After all, who would be able to recognize her that wasn't already sworn to secrecy?

* * *

Klaus sulked in the corner of his club, the raucous activity surrounding him doing nothing to catch his fancy. The business of orchestrating fights was an exciting one, just as merely watching the fights was an adventure for the ton at large. Still, a particular melancholy had befallen him since that dreaded conversation with his mother.

Esther Mikaelson would tolerate only so much foolishness from her bastard son, even with the wealthy empire he had built on his own. She had summoned him to dinner, only to berate him for refusing to participate in London's season. "You need a wife," she haughtily pointed out. "Your business aside, you have a responsibility to your title. To provide an heir."

Gulping his brandy, Klaus angrily slammed down his glass. It was hardly the first time his mother had brought up the subject, but something about their latest conversation irked him. Visions of blonde curls and a satin glove came to mind, swirling in his head like the effects of the strong alcohol he desperately hoped would block them.

"Utterly ridiculous," he muttered to himself. He barely met the girl, yet her face was the first he saw as soon as his mother mentioned a wife. True, his brief introduction to Miss Caroline Forbes intrigued him more than any of the other young maids thrown toward him by ambitious mothers. And he might have been attending more events than usual in hopes of another moment alone with her. Marriage, however, was much more than a flirtation.

Desperate for a distraction, he glanced up in hopes of finding a new fancy. One of the blondes by the bar was eyeing him; ladies of the ton were seldom seen among such entertainments, but the common stock held themselves to no such rules of society. Klaus was about to head her way when a familiar face caught his eye at the door. "Elijah?"

His older brother looked much aggrieved to be caught. True, Klaus rarely expected titled gentlemen on nights such as this, where the bets were lowered to serve the masses. He was surprised that the ever proper Elijah Mikaelson would show his face at such a common event. When a head of massive brunette curls followed, however, all his questions were answered.

"Which one are you, then?" Klaus asked rudely of the Petrova twin. She shot him a glare, as opposed to the simpering look from her sister that once captivated him. "Ah, Katerina then. Brother, you've fallen far to corrupt your morals for a woman."

"Alas," Elijah sighed. "She threatened to make her way here regardless of my involvement. I thought it would be a gentleman's duty to protect her in the absence of a chaperone."

"Technically, I have one," Katerina countered, pulling another woman behind her. "Elijah was angry he wasn't the only one I've corrupted in my sojourn."

Bright eyes met Klaus's gaze, shocking him down to his toes. Caroline Forbes stood in his club, her cheeks flushed with excitement. His hand ached to reach out, though he tempered himself at the realization she was still a lady with a reputation to consider. Bowing slightly, he nodded in a respectful manner. "Miss Forbes."

"Oh, hello," she said in surprise, dropping into a small curtsy.

Katerina snorted from beside her, gripping the younger girl's arm. "We're not ladies tonight, Caroline, honestly." She shook her head in mock despair. "You really are a goody-goody."

Opening her mouth to answer, anything Caroline might have said was cut off by Katerina's impertinent order. "Elijah, you promised to assist me tonight, so let us find a good spot to see the fight." She turned, quickly disappearing into the crowd with a frazzled Elijah chasing after her.

"That was rude," Caroline noted, realizing she was left alone. Well, not entirely.

Mortified at the circumstances, Klaus still refused to let such an opportunity pass by. "Would you care for a drink, love?" Holding his breath, he nodded toward his corner table. "I have an excellent view of the room."

She seemed torn with indecision, until she pursed her lips in finality. "Nothing too strong," she demanded. "I want to remember everything about tonight."

The second part seemed breathless to his ear, and he wondered at the sound. Sending one of his men for some champagne, he led Caroline to sit at the table. "What about my club is so worth the risk to your prospects?" he asked. "You needn't put your future in danger to speak with me, you know."

Caroline relaxed into her seat as she took in the scene around her. "As if everything's about you," she answered, rolling her eyes. She glanced back to Klaus, though, and his genuine concern pushed her to be honest. "I just...wanted to see more of the world before I can't anymore."

"What could stop you?" In his imagination, there was nothing the strong-willed woman beside him couldn't accomplish.

"Just like a man," she muttered, crossing her arms. "I was brought to London to find a husband, and a married woman has more important responsibilities than to travel for her own fancy. A home to manage, children to bear and raise."

Her explanation didn't sit well with Klaus, who was relieved when their drinks arrived. "A good husband would recognize your desires, seek to fulfill them at every chance," he replied, handing her a flute of champagne. "My mother scolded me just earlier for failing to seek such a wife to dote upon."

Giggling, Caroline smiled into her glass. "And you would be a doting husband?"

His eyes burned, and Klaus allowed himself to give into the temptation of playing with yet another loose curl of her hair. "Any wife of mine would be a queen of my domain, so to speak," he answered softly. "I would share everything with her, take her everywhere she wanted to go."

"You haven't found her yet?" Caroline asked in a whisper, tracking his movement with the lock of her hair.

Klaus smirked, releasing her only to reach for her hand instead. "I don't know about that," he said, marveling at the direct contact with her ungloved skin.

They both stared at their clasped hands for a moment, only broken when Elijah rushed to their table with a disgruntled Katerina. He arched an eyebrow at their closeness, but a more pressing issue was at hand. "We must go, Katerina has drawn too much attention to herself," he announced.

"You're just angry I won the bet," she pouted theatrically, giving her skirts an innocent swish. "It's not my fault you couldn't choose a winning fighter."

"Come, Caroline," Elijah ordered tersely. "I must return you both home."

Reluctantly releasing her hand, Klaus watched as she stood to follow them out. "Might I call on you tomorrow?" he rushed to ask.

Her eyes lowered shyly. "I suppose it would be rude to refuse a caller," she hedged, turning away with a small smile.

His hand flexed involuntarily as he watched her go.


End file.
